


Words Are Wind

by ashleyfanfic



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daenerys is Queen, F/M, Jon's had enough of your bullshit, R Plus L Equals J, angry northron lords cause jon bent the knee, basically a fuck you to the northron lords, elopement, hates he was lied to, how dare you hate on our queen, jon is warden of the north, jon isn't all that bothered that daenerys is his aunt, suck on it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 17:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14024724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleyfanfic/pseuds/ashleyfanfic
Summary: Jon has had enough of the Northron lords and their wishy-washy loyalty. He takes the opportunity to show them exactly what he thinks of their opinions.





	Words Are Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this is not kind to the Lords of the North. Jon has had enough of their bullshit, too. If you don't like it, hit that arrow button at the top and see your way out of this fic. 
> 
> Dedicated to the Tarts, because saltiness towards the North seems to be our culture at this point. I love you all.
> 
> Thanks to Sparkles59 for the beta job on this.
> 
> There will be a part 2, but it will be an unexpected wedding night. ;)

Jon stood in front of the Northron Lords as they continued to shout at him. He’d only been back in Winterfell with Daenerys and her armies for less than two days and Sansa had met him with an aloofness than had him on edge. Arya, however, hadn’t hesitated to run into his arms. He was glad at least one person in Winterfell was happy to see him.

 

Bran had insisted that he speak with him immediately, the revelation of his true parentage was enough to make his head swim. He was furious with the man who had raised him for lying to him his entire life. He would have allowed him to languish at the Wall the rest of his life without ever telling him the truth. To protect him or his best friend, Robert, Jon wasn’t sure. He had started to the crypts to try and make some sort of sense of it all when his eyes had met Daenerys’ as she was exiting the Godswood to see her dragons.

 

She had given him a small smile and disappeared into her tower with her Unsullied guards. Jon had abandoned his quest for the crypts, ignoring the past in favor of the present. Her smile all too inviting and the lure of losing himself in her arms too hard to resist. He’d spent the night between her thighs, allowing her to chase away his insecurities, his anger, and his inadequacies. With her, he was loved, accepted, and happy.

 

But now, surrounded by screaming and dissatisfied lords, he felt his anger reaching a fevered pitch. Everyone knew that he had bent the knee to the Queen. He hadn’t hid it, even when it had been smart to do so. He thought they would listen to reason. He thought they would hear him. Instead, they had their own personal agendas. Every opportunity he had to speak and address them as civilized people, someone else shouted something about a foreign invader, tempting seductress, and Mad Queen were screamed. And though all of this was happening, she stood at the back of the room, her head held high, and he could see her anger rising as well.

 

“You sold your loyalty to us to a foreigner with a pretty face!” Lord Glover shouted at Jon and turned a cold look to Daenerys. He gripped the pommel of Longclaw, doing everything he could to refrain from killing the man. “We should have named your sister Queen of the North.”

 

“Aye. Perhaps you should have. We see how many dragons she has already brought with her.” At that, he saw Daenerys’ back straighten. Sansa, however, remained quiet at his side and did nothing to try to defend him. He didn’t know if this was what she had wanted all along, but he was angry at her for not speaking up. One word from her could have silenced all of them.

 

Lord Royce stood then. “You were only supposed to convince her to help us. Not be seduced into her clutches.”

 

Jon stormed around the table. “Her clutches?” his voice sounded foreign even to him. “Where were you, Lord Glover, when we fought to take back this castle from the Bolton’s? Where were you, Lord Cerwyn? Lord Manderly? And you, Lord Royce, you didn’t want to ride for us. It was only after your lord was manipulated by Littlefinger that your forces rode to aid my _sister_ . None of you wanted to help.” They all grew silent. “I bent the knee to the Queen _after_ she agreed to help because _she_ is the best to lead us. Fools. All of you,” he spat.

 

He shook his head, disgusted with how they could be so ungrateful. “I spoke to her of my people. How you were proud, would never bow to a Southron leader after all we had suffered. I was the fool.” He paused. “I was a true fool because I believed you all capable of being more able to see what was best for your people rather than your own stubborn pride.”

 

“Our pride?” Lord Glover questioned. “You brought a foreigner into our land and you bent the knee to her!”

  
“Aye! And I would do it again every day!” he responded hotly.

  
“You’ve allowed her to cloud your mind!” Jon shook his head and met Daenerys’ eyes, a sad resolution in them. There was no sadness within him. Only anger. _Fire and Blood_ . “This _threat_ you’ve said is coming to us hasn’t kept you from bedding her.”

 

Jon stepped toward the older man. “You seem to believe that I acted against the best interest of the North.”

 

“Your brother never would have bent the knee,” Lord Glover spat.

 

Arya stepped forward. “Robb’s not here. Jon is. You named him king, but your loyalty shifts in the wind like snow. My father _and_ my brother would be ashamed to call you their lords.”

 

Jon tilted his head. “What is it you disapprove of more, Lord Glover? That I bent the knee or bent the knee to her?”

 

“Both are foolish, hard to say which is the more stupid action.”

 

Jon stepped back, his eyes narrowed at the older man. “Run home to your keeps, then. And when the Queen and I have beaten back the dead with _her_ dragons and _her foreign_ armies perhaps we’ll deal with you, next.”

 

“Don’t threaten me, boy.”

 

“ _Boy_?” Arya shouted.

 

Jon took a step back and gave a derisive snort. “The North is touted as being the most loyal group of men in the whole of Westeros. But the truth is there is no true loyalty here,” he spat. “I was loyal to you. I believed that there was enough intelligence within you to realize that what she had and offered would mean more than whether or not you called me King or Warden.” He looked Lord Glover up and down and shook his head. “You’re small men with small ideas. And if you disliked the act of bending the knee, then you’ll fucking hate this,” he said as he turned, the cloth of his cloak swirling behind him as he strode toward Daenerys.

 

He stood rather close to her and held out his hand. He could see that her breathing was labored as she had done everything she could to reign in her temper and managed to hold her tongue even as they had insulted them both.

 

She placed her gloved hand in his as he led her out of the hall, most of the Lords following behind, Sansa and Arya as well. They were met by Ghost, the wolf on edge as he walked along beside them and into the Godswood, sensing the distress.

 

“Your Grace?” Tyrion was at her elbow, practically running to keep up with their pace. “What’s the meaning of this?” he hissed.

 

Bran was seated in his chair in front of the large white tree, and as they approached, he gave Jon a grim smile. Sansa and Arya pushed forward but Jon turned to Bran and gave a nod.

 

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” Bran asked and an audible gasp filled the woods.

 

There was silence before the voice of Ser Jorah Mormont rang out. “Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen comes here to be wed.” His voice echoed through the trees. “A woman grown. Trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods.” Jon had turned to stare down the Lords, but when his eyes fell on his bride, he could see a smile on her face. This wasn’t how they had intended it to happen. However, he knew his future wife well enough to know that she was secretly thrilled about putting all of the huffy lords in their places. “Who comes to claim her?”

 

“Jon Snow of House Stark. _Warden_ of the North,” Jon’s reply was loud, perhaps a bit too loud if he were going by the hidden laugh he could see on her face and even the smirk on Tyrion and Jorah’s. “Who gives her?”

 

“Ser Jorah of House Mormont. Lord Commander of the Queen’s Armies.”

 

Bran started to speak, but several people backed up as the head of Drogon peaked in through the trees, examining the proceedings and eyeing the others around. Everyone stood completely still and Bran did speak this time. “Queen Daenerys do you take this man?”

 

She took a step toward Jon and made sure her voice echoed loud enough for those scattered in the back of the crowd. “I take this man.”

 

Jon moved to stand beside Daenerys and took her hand in his, then nodded for her to kneel with him in front of the heart tree. He began to close his eyes but heard Daenerys whisper. “What are we meant to be doing?”

 

He smiled and whispered back. “Praying to the Old Golds for a favorable marriage.”

 

He heard her hum of approval. “I don’t know how to pray,” she admitted. But lowered her head and closed her eyes.

 

Jon smirked as he watched her. “I once prayed for you, long ago,” he whispered. “If we live through all this I’ll tell you.”

 

The squeeze of her fingers caused him to peek at her again and was relieved to see a smile on her lips before she said softly. “ _When_ we survive this, perhaps I’ll tell _you_ how I dreamed of you,” she said back.

 

Jon tugged on her hand, letting her know he was ready to stand, which he did and he helped her to her feet. She slid her hand through his elbow and gripped his bicep. They turned to face their people, Jon’s anger still strumming through his blood like a living thing, ready to take hold at any moment.

 

However, Daenerys turned to Jorah and Tyrion. “Escort the Lords of the North out of the Godswood. If they refuse to comply, I’m sure a few _foreign_ commanders will help them out.”

  



End file.
